


Tumblr Fics

by Roshwen



Category: Leverage, The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Crossover, Drabbles, Eliot used a very distinctive alias and Jacob is Not Thrilled about it, Fluff, Humor, It's Flufftober!, Jake's grandmother has the perfect name, Jenkins is having a very bad day, Leverage Inc. gains a new tagline, Multi, Old Nate reminds Ezekiel of someone, One tag per chapter, Say it with flowers, Sweetness, Tumblr fics, Victor Dubenich Hires the OT3 for the Nigerian Job, short and sweet, slight crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-05-31 20:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 4,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15126830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roshwen/pseuds/Roshwen
Summary: A parking lot for the mini fics and drabbles posted on Tumblr. Featuring the Librarians, Leverage and the Librarians x Leverage because why not





	1. Let's go steal Old Nate (wait what?)

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been posting mini fics over on Tumblr, but since my blog is a mess, I can never seem to find them back. So, consider this my organization attempt.
> 
> For the first one, if you've ever seen the painting of Old Nate and then looked at Jenkins, you will know exactly what I mean.

When two internationally acclaimed and wanted thieves set up shop in the same town, a meeting is inevitable. If only to keep things civil and to make sure no one accidentally on purpose gets killed.

So when Ezekiel enters the Leverage HQ for the first time, he spots the painting of Old Nate within 0.2 seconds and, after staring at it for a good long confused minute, grins his widest grin. When Parker eyes him suspiciously, he tells her it reminds him of someone and then proceeds to geek out over Hardison’s NASA level spy equipment while at the same time complimenting Eliot’s cooking. So all in all, they get along great.

Until the next morning, when the painting is gone. Or, to put it another way: someone broke into the most secure apartment in Portland and absconded with one of Parker’s most prized possessions (yes, there’s still money in there. Of course there is still money in there).

The pink sticky note that’s stuck to the now empty spot on the wall saying _I’ll bring it back, promise_ doesn’t really help.

The fact that Hardison can’t trace the damn thing, or the person who took it, _anywhere_ does not help either.

Two days later, however, Old Nate is back. Or, to put it another way: someone broke into the most secure apartment in Portland _again_.

There’s another sticky note too, right on Old Nate’s nose. Bright orange, this time, and it says _Worth it_.

The team doesn’t really know what to make of this, but on the other hand, Parker’s emergency fund appears to be untouched. So there’s that.

And if Old Nate suddenly acquires his very own vertical laser grid so that _no one_ can take it off the wall without alarms starting to blare, well. You take precautions.

(The next time Ezekiel visits, Parker eyes him even more suspiciously. But then he presents the orange soda brownies he brought (it’s an experiment but he made sure they are at least edible), and both Hardison and Parker suddenly don’t care as much anymore.)

(Eliot eyes the brownies very warily. But when none of them have dropped dead at the end of the night, sighs in defeat and goes to ask Ezekiel for the recipe anyway.)


	2. Rosetta Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoever thought it was fitting that Jacob's father is named Isaac, has never met his grandmother...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's the fault of [jacobstone](https://jacobstone.tumblr.com/) who said: 
> 
> Okay I got a new OC for The Librarians. I spent awhile thinking this one up. Her name’s Rosetta and she’s Jacob’s grandmother XD
> 
> and then this happened.

As a Southern girl, no one ever called her by her full name. Whenever one of her parents did call her Rosetta, it could only mean that she was in _deep_ trouble and a spanking was sure to follow. Otherwise, everybody just called her Rosie.

She didn’t mind. She liked having her own little joke. People shared enough with each other as it was in their tiny town, it was nice to have something that was just hers.

Until her grandson is born and he is so clever, far more clever than any kid she’s ever seen, and he reads books and soaks up information like it’s air. It’s cute, it’s amazing and Rosie loves all her grandchildren equally, but little Pebbles sure is something special.

One day she and Pebbles go to the tiny local library. And there’s a new book, a brilliant shiny new book about Ancient Egypt and Pebbles is drawn to it like a moth to a lightbulb. When Rosie sees the front cover, she has a long, quiet laugh to herself. Pebbles doesn’t notice because _look grandma mummies_ , but when she’s done laughing, and when Pebbles is (finally) done browsing the rest of the children’s corner, they go home. Where Rosie sits Pebbles down on the couch, with the book in her lap; it’s big and yellow and decorated with pyramids and smelly mummies, and smack dab in the middle, a large grey rock with a bunch of weird squiggles on it.

First, Rosie tells Pebbles what that rock is, and Pebbles is _fascinated_ because even at the ripe old age of seven years, he _loves_ languages.

And then Rosie tells Pebbles her little secret.

When Grandpa finds them fifteen minutes later, they are still laughing. Grandpa doesn’t know why, and he knows better than to ask. Just shakes his head, smiles and asks them if they’d like some lemonade.

—

Years later, years and years and _years_ later, when Jacob Stone is no longer a Pebble, one of his team’s cases takes them to the British Museum.

Ezekiel and Cassandra might have known this would be an absolute nightmare because their cowboy would obviously get distracted and wander off at one point or another.

However. They did not expect to find him in front of a glass casing larger than himself. He is standing very still and his blue eyes are a little unfocused. They are also shining suspiciously while he is looking at and at the same time not really seeing the black piece of granite with the weird squiggles inside the glass.

Ezekiel and Cassandra take one look and quietly turn back in the direction they came from. They can work this case themselves for a bit.

And when Jake asks them to stop at the museum gift shop, they don’t protest. Especially not after they see what he’s buying.

A few days later, at a small, unnasuming cemetery in Oklahoma, there is something new and a bit odd on the grave of Rosie Stone.

It looks nothing much. It almost falls away against the dark headstone and between the few flowers that are still left there. No one would notice, and if they did, they probably would not understand why there is a tiny dark rock with weird squiggles on it sitting on Old Rosie’s grave.

They don’t need to, either. It’s just a little inside joke between two people.


	3. Say it with flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It starts off as an accident. As most things do. And Hardison does not mind one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this one's the fault of [distinctivelibrarians](https://distinctivelibrarians.tumblr.com/) who said:
> 
> I need a fic where Hardison is just spoiled with flowers. Because the man deserves ridiculously overthetop romantic cliches sometimes. Literally no other reason.
> 
> I don't know whether to say 'ask and ye shall receive' or 'be careful what you wish for', but anyway. Here is something.

Eliot is the one who starts it, although a bit by accident. Because the man is _obsessed_ with detail and hell if he’s not going to decorate the Brew Pub to make it the best damn looking restaurant in town.

So of course he orders a bit more flowers for the tables than are needed, because you _always_ order extra.

So of course he has some flowers left over at the end of the day.

And somehow, by way of prank or ‘what the hell I don’t care anymore’, those flowers end up in Hardison’s work room (or tinker toy room, Eliot calls it).

And Hardison… is surprised. But also? Touched? There is definitely some kind of emotion going on he’s not all that used to, and he tries to cover it up but he’s forgotten about the two very perceptive people that happen to be his partners.

So next time Eliot orders flowers for the pub, he orders a little _extra_ extra.

And things kind of spiral from there.

There’s tulips. There’s pansies. There’s marigolds and gardenias and lilacs. And some flowering herbs as well, because those smell amazing and Eliot can use them in the kitchen to cook with.

Lavender. Thai Basil. Rosemary.

Parker chips in too, the moment she catches on to what is going on. Except her floral choices are a bit… less conventional. As is to be expected.

Hardison does not mind. At all. He loves the flowers and various types of carnivorous plants and weird looking orchids equally.

Although. After he nearly impales himself on a cactus covered in spikes that are about a foot long each, he does have a careful word with Parker. Yes, he does understand the appeal and the potential use as a weapon. Just. Maybe a little heads up, next time? Babe?

Parker nods.

One week later, Hardison walks into his work room and. Stops dead.

And bursts out laughing.

Not because of the tiny Aloe that now stands next to the cactus (carefully placed out of the way of unsuspecting hackers). But because of the note that is taped to it: I heard this one can help when you get hurt.

Of course, it’s only a matter of time before the Aloe is relocated to the kitchen, where there are more burns and cuts and scrapes for it to take care of.

That doesn’t mean a cutting of it appears next to Hardison’s cactus again withtin the week, though. It sits right between the spiky ball of death and Eliot’s bouquet of the week (Hardison doesn’t know the name but they’re long-stemmed, pale orange things that make the room smell like heaven).

And there it stays.


	4. I have a job for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dubenich has a problem. And he knows just who to call to help him solve it.

He finds the thief in a coffee bar opposite a newly opened modern art gallery. A newly opened  _very expensive_ modern art gallery.

She is wary, glaring over the rim of her cup of cocoa. ‘How did you find me?’

‘I have my contacts’

‘OK, so the question I should be asking is: who told you I’d be here?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Yes.’

‘Does it still matter if I offer you 500 grand?’ He isn’t planning on paying out anyway, no reason he should not exaggerate his offer a little bit.

The cup is lowered down to the table. ‘No.’

\---

The hitter is even easier. A dive bar in the sleezier part of LA, where he's sipping a beer and watching the tiny corner tv as if he hasn't a care in the world.

He is not wary. He doesn't even look up from his bottle. ‘No.’

‘Come on, it’s 300 grand for one night’s work. Just get them in and out, it’d be a piece of cake. Tell me if you ever heard a sweeter deal.’

‘The sweeter the deal, the tougher it turns out to be. No.’

So money and an easy gig were not this man’s hooks. Time to try something else.

‘Did you know Nate Ford is going to take the lead on this?’

And that does it. The hitter puts his bottle down and looks up, seemingly seeing Dubenich for the first time. ‘ _Ford_ is going to lead a break in?’

Dubenich smiles. ‘Yes.’

‘That I gotta see. I’m in.’

\---

The hacker lives in a private condo in NYC. And like the hitter and the thief, he is not bursting with enthusiasm when Dubenich comes to him.

‘Nah man, I’m busy. And besides, if I want 300 grand, I know about a hundred ways to get it that does not involve creeping around an office building in the middle of the night. Nah-ah. No.’

‘Did you even look at the rest of the team?’

‘Who’d you got, two thugs and a poodle in a tutu?’

‘Eliot Spencer and Parker.’

‘You’re kidding me.’

‘Do I look like I’m kidding?’

‘But these guys, they’re… they’re  _the best._ They’re absolute legends man, how’d you even  _find_  these people?’

Oh, this was the easiest of them all. ‘I have my contacts. Now, are you in?’

‘Hell. Yes.’

\---

Three down. One to go.

 


	5. A very distinctive menu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake takes Cassie on a date to a new restaurant that has just opened. Just a normal date on a normal Friday night. What could possibly go wrong?

It’s a brew pub, not a fancy restaurant. But then again, they are not very fancy people. The reviews have been through the roof however, so when they for once find themselves on a Friday night with no monsters to chase and no lives to save, Jake suggests trying it out. Cassandra agrees readily, bouncing out of the Annex before he has had the chance to put on his coat.

Jake follows at a slightly more sedate pace, but with no less wide of a grin on his face. He is taking a pretty girl out on a date on a Friday night and he could not be happier about this little bit of normalcy in between all their usual craziness _._

‘Hey,’ Cassandra says after their hostess has brought them to their table and handed them their menus. ‘That’s funny.’

‘What is, darlin’?’ Jake asks, not bothering with the menu just yet, but instead enjoying the view of Cassandra sitting in front of him, all red curls and laughing blue eyes and all his.

‘The chef,’ Cassandra said, looking up from the menu with amusement dancing in her eyes. ‘They’ve got a little bio of him, and it says he’s from Oklahoma too. And uhm. Well. You don’t happen to have an evil twin, do you?’

Jake sort of did, as a matter of fact. Instead of sharing that information, however, he said: ‘Not that I’m aware, no. Why?’

‘Cause he’s called Esau,’ Cassandra said, amusement now blossoming into a full grin. ‘Esau Stone… Jake, are you alright?’

\---

‘Are you kiddin’ me, man?’ Alec says, shaking his head and throwing out his arms in a helpless gesture. ‘Are you actually kiddin’ me?’

He turned, looking away from the video wall that showed the security footage of the restaurant. ‘Eliot, man, something you wanna tell me? ‘Cause I made sure. I made _sure_ that staff wouldn’t rat you out, no matter who walked through that door. I made sure the alias you gave me is rock solid, I made that bio as vague as possible. I didn’t even put in that weird picture where your face is all shadow-y and mysterious because you thought it was too risky. Now, tell me _how_ this guy, who looks like someone took you and used you for some kind of hinky cloning experiment, figures out you’re here within two seconds of sitting down?’

Eliot rolls his eyes, but he can’t hide the fact that he has grown very pale. Although nowhere near as pale as the other guy, who is still staring at the menu like he has seen a ghost.

Perhaps he has. Hardison doesn’t really know how Eliot ‘left’ his old life behind, but he would not be surprised if it involved a fake death or two. Or three.

‘Eliot?’

Eliot clears his throat. Looks away. Mumbles something.

‘Sorry? Didn’t catch that.’

Eliot sighs. ‘I might have used a very distinctive alias, alright?’


	6. Before it was cool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardison adds a new tagline to the website of Leverage, Inc. Nate is not too pleased.

‘Hardison.’

‘Hm?’

Hardison looked up to where Nate was sitting at the briefing table. In front of a laptop, which was odd. Up until now, Hardison always thought the most complicated piece of technology Nate Ford could handle was a Nokia 3310. Barely.

‘Hardison, I’m just looking at our ‘company website’,’ Nate continued slowly and oh no. Hardison suddenly had this weirdly specific feeling about how this conversation was going to go.

‘You don’t like it?’ he asked, maintaining innocence for as long as he could.

‘Oh no,’ Nate said, ‘no, I do. I do like it. There’s ah, there’s just one thing I’m not too sure about.’

Hardison sighed. ‘Look, I know it’s a little on the nose but you gotta be honest. It’s what we  _did_ so you know. Give ourselves some credit.’

Nate looked at him. Hardison did not squirm. He did not. ‘ _Leverage, Inc. We stole elections before it was cool?’_ Nate said. ‘Yeah. I’d say that’s a bit on the nose.’

Hardison rolled his eyes. ‘Fine. I’ll delete it by tomorrow.’

Nate stood up, closed the laptop and started making his way towards the kitchen, stopping briefly to pat Hardison on the shoulder. ‘Not everything needs advertising.’


	7. The Bell Tolls... for whom?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenkins is working quietly in the Annex while the team is out on a mission. Until a bell starts to ring. And doesn't stop ringing no matter how much Jenkins might want it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on [this Tumblr post:](http://hedgehog-o-brien.tumblr.com/post/168154447056/librarians-headcanon-time) The Library has a warning system that goes off when a Librarian dies on a mission (bc that’s a lot easier than just having to sit around waiting for someone who is never coming back).
> 
> One day, it just keeps going off every hour or so, confusing and frightening the hell out of Jenkins. Yet somehow they return at the end of the day, all four of them, so Jenkins shrugs and blames the antiquated techno magic.

_Goooonnnngggg_

The sound thundered through the Annex, reverberating through every corner with a heavy, leaden echo and leaving a deafening silence in its wake.

In his lab, Jenkins stiffened for a moment and then very, very slowly put down the beaker he had just picked up. _Well,_ he thought, trying to quell the sudden cold pit in his stomach, _I suppose it was only a matter of time._

And he picked up the beaker again. It rattled slightly because of his shaking hands, but that was alright. Death was part of the Library life and if he had to stop working every time a Librarian died, he would never get anything done.

_Goooonnnngggg_

‘Oh dear,’ Jenkins muttered when the bell tolled a second time. One Librarian dead was bad enough. But two on one mission? Even for someone who had lived and lost friends for fifteen centuries, that was still a heavy blow. And just when he was starting to get used to having them around, too.

_Goooonnnngggg_

Three times. That meant there was still one survivor out there that Jenkins could not reach.

He wondered who it was. It wouldn’t be Colonel Baird; he strongly suspected the first bell had been for her. As it should have been. It also most likely was not Miss Cillian, however much the thought pained him. Bright as she was, she was not made for life-or-death situations that did not involve her own body trying to bring her down.

That meant either Mister Jones or Mister Stone would be left out there and honestly, Jenkins did not know who he would prefer to survive.

_Goooonnnngggg_

Well. Perhaps that was a mercy.

_Goooonnnngggg_

_Goooonnnngggg_

_Goooonnnngggg_

By now, Jenkins had retreated out of his lab and back to the Annex because whatever was going on, it was _bad._ There was no working when the bell started going off every ten minutes or so, and he could only guess at what the hell was going on. Perhaps the bell was faulty; it had been installed centuries ago and technomagic usually did not age well. _If_ the Librarians came back, checking the bell for malfunctions would most surely move to the top of Jenkins’ to-do list.

_Goooonnnngggg_

_If_ the Librarians came back.

_Goooonnnngggg_

God, please let them come back.

_Goooonnnngggg_

_\---_

The DARPA personnel should recover just fine, although they will have to do quite a lot of work to try and develop quantum computing without unauthorized magic tricks. Also, most importantly, Jenkins is still in possession of the Three Nuisances and their slightly less annoying Mother Hen, so all’s well that ends well.

And if Ezekiel looks a little jittery, well. Jenkins isn’t one to pry; meddle into the affairs of young rascal thieves, he will not.

 


	8. Leaf me be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anybody order an OT3 fall fluff fest?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Benjaminrussell, who asked for the Flufftober prompt 'Falling in a leaf pile, pulling the other with them'. Here ya go!

Alec Hardison was a lot of things. He was a Geek (yes, capital G, thank you very much). He was the co-owner of a very flourishing Portland Brew Pub, although when Eliot would finally figure out that his name was also on the property deed was beyond Hardison. He was a hacker, no, he was  _the_ hacker, the bane and scourge of hinky government agencies and paranoid billionaires everywhere. He was a pretty amazing lover, if he said so himself and if the sounds he could draw from both his partners were anything to go by. He was Nana’s boy, Alec, Hardison, Iceland’s most wanted and the inventor of Thief Juice, which was orange soda flavored beer.

Yes, Alec Hardison was all this and more. 

But he was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a nature person. According to Hardison, it was a truth universally acknowledged that humans were indoor creatures and that the outside should stay, well, outside where it seemed to be doing great without any of his help or involvement.

Which makes it a little odd, to say the least, that he is now lying face down in a pile of nasty dank-ass leaves that are slick and slimy and gross and smell like dirt. Somewhere next to him between the leaves, Parker is laughing and way behind and above him he can just  _hear_ Eliot smirking at him and where did his life go so wrong.

Oh, right. When he forgot that both his partners were actual eight-year-olds who thought jumping into leaf piles was fun. That was it.

‘Elimfff.’

‘Sorry man, what was that? Can’t hear ya,’ came the grinning reply from somewhere behind him.

Hardison spits out a leaf. An actual  _leaf_ that was in his  _mouth,_ god he is going to die from some kind of weird leaf fungus and it will all be Eliot’s fault. ‘Eliot, I swear, if you don’t want all your super-secret recipes sent over the entire internet by tomorrow, you’d better get me out of here right now.’

He turns around. The leaves squelch and slither and  _yuck_ and to add insult to injury, he immediately gets a face full of leaves  _again_ because Parker, the current head of Leverage International and best thief in the world, is lying next to him and is trying her level best to make leaf angels happen.

‘Eliot, come on man. Help me up.’

Hardison stretches out a hand, doing his best to look as pathetic as possible. He’s not entirely sure Eliot buys it; he stands there, outlined against the sky like some weird but cool-as-fuck dark angel minus the wings, arms crossed and smirking down at Hardison like Eliot wasn’t the one who shoved him into that pile of leaves in the first place. 

But then he reaches out to take Hardison’s hand. 

And Hardison is many things, but he is not an idiot. He knows there isn’t an icicle’s chance in hell that Eliot is unaware of what is going to happen. But he reaches out anyway, and so Hardison grabs Eliot’s hand and  _yanks_ as hard as he can and look at that, Eliot even has the grace to look faintly surprised as he takes a beautiful swan dive and lands face first into the pile of probably fungus-ridden tree droppings.

Red, orange, green and brown scatter everywhere as Parker cheers and Hardison scrambles to get upright and  _get out_ before Eliot...

… reaches back, grabs Hardison’s wrists and pulls him back down so he lands flat on his butt this time. His now thoroughly  _soggy_ butt because did someone already mention that fallen leaves are  _wet_ _?_ No, Hardison didn’t think so.  _Gross._

‘You’re not going anywhere, bubba,’ comes Eliot’s slightly muffled voice from somewhere inside the pile. ‘Get back here.’

Well, Hardison thinks as he heaves a sigh and casts one last fateful look at the heavens above before the world tilts sideways again, there  _are_ worse ways to die than by accidentally ingesting tree fungus.

(Although, trying to make out in a leaf pile? Hardison soon discovers that, like the concept of a leaf pile in general, it sounds romantic and fun but like many thinks, three-way make-outs should probably remain a strictly indoor activity. You know. Where there’s less sticks that will poke you and bugs that will crawl into inconvenient places while you’re not paying attention).


	9. Oh Christmas Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 't is the season, after all...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So once I have my current WIPs out of the way, this might grow into another fully fledged fic. But just so I don't lose track of it again, I'm posting it here as well. Enjoy!

After Jake and Eliot have reunited (and after they have punched the lights out of each other a couple of times, just to get it out of their system), Parker invites Eliot's Clone and his friends to come and celebrate Christmas at the Brewpub. Because that's what families do, right?

And at first it goes really well. Parker and Ezekiel talk heists, Cassandra and Hardison talk tech and science (and also flirt a little a lot, maybe, because that’s who they are) and Eliot and Jake are busy both catching up and giving each other hell for fictional or non fictional slights of the past. At the same time.

Then Cassandra compliments the Leverage crew on their pretty tree. She doesn’t know  _what_ these decorations are or where they got them, but they sure look beautiful.

Her comment makes the others take another look at the tree as well. One minute later, Ezekiel starts cracking up so hard he’s crying. Honest to god, crying and he needs a tissue. 

Meanwhile Jake nearly has an aneurysm and needs to sit down for a good ten minutes before he is able to tell Parker that yes, her tree is very pretty indeed. Lovely, even. Just lovely.

(’He’s not like you,’ Parker tells Eliot before the Librarians head out. Eliot just nods, then takes off after Ezekiel for a lively game of Frisk The Punk For Stolen Loot. Fa la la la la la la la la).


	10. The cowboy and the lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'I'm telling you, man. This is the worst actress I've ever seen.'

* * *

 

You can’t tell me

That the theatre group Sophie was with at the time did not somehow make it’s way to Oklahoma one day

And Jacob Stone, upon seeing that MacBeth was going to be performed by people who seemed at least competent if not very pretty, did not secure himself a ticket and a night off the oil rig

So he goes there, and it’s, well. Low production value, of course. The hags’ cauldron is obviously plastic, one of their warts falls into the fire as they speak, the lines sound stilted and pretentious like they do when people don’t  _get_ Shakespeare, but still. Jake doesn’t mind

Until  _she_  comes on

_Hie thee hither, That I may pour my spirits in thine ear;_  
And chastise with the valour of my tongue   
All that impedes thee from the golden round,   
Which fate and metaphysical aid doth seem   
To have thee crown’d withal. 

And it’s  _bad_

So so so so very very very  _bad_

It  _hurts._ It physically  _hurts_ to hear this… this… this…  _her_ mangle her way through one of the greatest plays ever written. Like someone is driving a knife into Jake’s gut every time she enters the stage, and twists and turns it with every line she speaks

Jake can’t stand it. He wants to leave. He wants to leave and run and never go back anywhere near that godforsaken theatre where Shakespeare was brutally murdered in front of his very eyes

And yet he stays. Because at the same time, it’s like watching a plane crash happen in real time: you  _know_ there’s going to be a horrific tragedy about to happen, and yet you can’t look away

So Jake stays. Transfixed and yet mortified to his very core

And then, after two hours when the play is finally, finally over

Jake heads out, and immediately doubles back towards the stage door. It’s in a reeking alley behind the building, this C-grade theatre a far cry from the glitter and glamour of Broadway

But that doesn’t matter. Because there _she_ is, about to head out to whatever crappy motel the group was able to afford

Because Jake not only loves his Shakespeare and will do anything to prevent it from being abused in this way ever again (even if that includes lecturing very pretty brunettes about the pronuciation of the word Cawdor), but he also, much like his older and sadly MIA brother Eliot, just plainly wants to help people do better

(And he knows she can do it, too. She’s not actually a bad actress, he can see that. He doesn’t know why her performance was such a tragedy in itself, but it wasn’t because she couldn’t act.)

So there you have it. Jake asks said pretty brunette out to dinner so he can help her getting some of the trickier parts of the play right (or at least, not horribly horribly wrong), the pretty brunette says yes thank you good sir Jacob (and oh, it seemed the British accent at least  _wasn’t_ an act and isn’t that interesting) and a very fun evening is had by all

And then the very fun evening continues into the night

_Well_ into the night

LIke, by the time Jake leaves the crappy motel, the sun’s already rising and the first birds are already chirping

(whoops)

(so yeah. That happened)

—

And you also can’t tell me that a couple of years down the road, Jake tells the story of how he once helped a Shakespeare actress remember her lines and then  _remember her lines har har wink wink nudge nudge_

And then he casually mentions her name, because let’s face it, it is a pretty name and rolls nicely off the tongue

It’s very unfortunate that Ezekiel has just taken a sip of beer and it actually takes Jenkins performing a sort of medieval Heimlich to get him breathing again

When he gets back up and everybody has wiped themselves off, he glares at Jake

Jake grins

Ezekiel puts down his beer, stands up and leaves the Annex without another word

 


	11. Remembering the Rover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardison learns about the demise of the Opportunity Mars Rover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Though her soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light/she has loved the stars too fondly, to be fearful of the night_
> 
> Thank you, Opportunity. Sleep tight and we'll see you in a hundred years or so;

When Hardison learns about the ‘demise’ of the Opportunity Mars Rover, he spends the entire day moping around the Brewpub, eyes big and brown and sad almost as if he's on the verge of tears. When Parker corners him and orders him to tell her what’s wrong, he explains that there’s a lonely robot out there, a thousand miles from home, and it’s all alone and broken in the darkness. It takes a moment, but then Parker grows real quiet as well. Then about an hour later, Eliot walks in, demands to know what the hell is going on and rolls his eyes because  _damn it Hardison it’s just a robot grow up_. 

 But he also makes his special lasagna that night and lets Hardison pick the movie afterwards and doesn’t even complain (much) that it’s apparently going to be WALL-E.

  
Also the way he lifts his beer bottle before the movie starts looks suspiciously like a salute. And if Hardison hears a sniffle on both sides about halfway through the movie, well. He’s a gentleman, so he’s not gonna mention it.


End file.
